Counting Stars
by Arrington Blake
Summary: An alternate universe in which Felicity was stranded on the Island and returns to save Starling City, instead of Oliver. His world shattered when she died, he had finally managed to pick up the pieces, when she returned.
1. Beginning of a Requium

Chapter One: Beginning of a Requiem, Pilot (1x1)

"_Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?" Lana Del Ray, for '_ _The Great Gatsby'._

"Ollie?" Laurel Lance called out. Her voice bounced around the open floor plan in a way that made the stylized loft she shared with Oliver in Starling, seem even grander than it actually was. Between the high ceilings and tall glass windows sound seemed to go on indefinitely in the space. Laurel padded barefoot into the kitchen, her feet sticking and pulling against the dark hard wood floor. "Can you turn on channel 7? Sarah's Lawyers Without Borders interview should be coming on in a minute…"

"Got it," came his voice from the living room, barely a grunt.

She heard the click as Oliver tugged the top button of his Italian cotton dress shirt loose, the thump as he kicked his shoes next to the front door. When she leaned over the island to grab two crystal wine glasses Laurel peered into the living room and watched as he pulled his tie off and threw his jacket on the couch in a rumpled heap like it didn't cost more than she made in a year. He plopped down onto said couch as if his job under Walter Steel at Queen Consolidated ‒schmoozing the rich‒ was just too much for him to handle. She rolled her eyes.

Laurel was proud of Oliver for stepping up and taking a role in the company when his father died, she really was. But he didn't seem happy if the grumbling and the thumping and one word sentences were any indication. He wasn't doing anything for himself and that's what exasperated her. He still just sat there and let opportunities fall into his lap. Different opportunities, better ones than clubbing and snorting expensive prescription drugs, but still handed to him nonetheless.

He worked sure, if nodding off during business meetings counted as work, but he wasn't trying to make something of himself. He wasn't trying to become someone on his own. And yet he complained about it. It drove her nuts. And maybe, she wasn't giving him enough credit. He had made it through a tragedy, losing his father and his fiancé in one fatal swoop.

He made an effort to be on time and put on a suit each morning, to communicate in a way he hadn't when they had known each other in high school. But Laurel knew that he could do amazing things. Make changes. Save the world, like some hero, if he'd just get off his ass and think for himself.

When they started falling in love he had been open and charismatic, excited in a way he wasn't now. She felt like she loved him irrevocably, that she _should _love him irrevocably, unconditionally but she missed the excitement that had died away over the last year.Laurel sighed like the mere thought of Oliver's current behavior exhausted her very soul, and moved across the kitchen, swinging open the door to the wine safe and grabbing a bottle of white. It was Tommy's club's new, exclusive, label. _Before Dark, _the saucy print that hung among sketched stars, read. The bottle breathed a sigh when she screwed out the cork.

She took a cautionary sip and grinned. It was rich but not too full-bodied, just the way she liked it.

"Nice job, Merlyn," she sang to herself.

Tommy Merlyn. Now that was someone who had created his own opportunities, who was changing who he was into what he wanted to be.

"Here, Ollie," she said and slid the glass into Oliver's hand before putting hers down on the low coffee table. His lips pouted at her.

"I know you prefer rosé but this is Tommy's. Just try it," she insisted and swept out of the room to change. "He's working hard to make something of himself, separate himself from Malcom. We need to support him," her voice sing-songed. _Maybe you should do the same. _She thought bitterly, as she pulled her constricting, teal, work blouse over her head and walked into the bedroom to change, but those were things they didn't say to one another. In as many words anyway.

She tugged on blue jean shorts and an off-the-shoulder sweater to the drone of the Channel Seven news. It was too loud, like always. Oliver liked everything a little exaggerated, much to her dismay.

The news of stock prices droned on. Queen consolidated was doing well. _Surprise, surprise._ Laurel leaned against her bed and began the process of pulling on her socks, when the shattering of a glass and a low '_fuck' _caught her attention.

The words took a second to sink in as she ran to the living room, "Felicity Smoak is alive," the man on the news said, and his voice deep and round, "The Starling City resident was found by fisherman in the North China Sea, five days ago…"

"Ollie?"

The sight that met her took her breath. Glass was shattered all over the floor, white wine seeping sluggishly on the area rug, like it wanted to break free and flood the floor. Oliver was pale as a ghost, eyes locked on the television.

"She's alive," he said lowly, but Laurel wasn't sure that it was addressed to her.

"Who is?"

"Five years after she was missing and presumed dead following the accident at sea that claimed the Queen's Gambit…"

Laurel gasped. Felicity Smoak's picture appeared on the screen.

Her blonde hair was loose under her graduation cap, fuchsia colored lips turned up at the corners in a smile. Her degree was clutched to her chest. She barely looked 20. Laurel knew that she had graduated early form MIT with honors.

"Felicity Smoak was most notably, engaged to Starling City billionaire Oliver Queen, shortly before her disappearance. Smoak was a chief Information Technology analyst at Queen Consolidated…" the man at the news desk continued.

Laurel watched as the picture of the smiling graduate was taken over by a bolder shot. This time Felicity's hair was piled on top of her head in a complicated coif. Her lips were stained red. She was laughing, her head tossed to the side as she peered up at the man beside her. The photographer had only captured half of Oliver's face, but his smile was still obvious, bright and bold. His hand was placed against her arm.

A new picture took over the top right corner, a copy of the one Laurel had seen five and a half years ago on the engagement announcement. The shine of Felicity's multi carat diamond ring was only bested by the one in her eyes. Oliver's arms were wrapped low around her waist, his head tucked against her neck.

"Robert Queen, CEO of Queen Consolidated and business tycoon had charted the trip to company holdings in China during which a violent storm took the ship down. He is now officially confirmed as deceased."

Laurel snatched the remote, glanced at Oliver who now looked nauseous and hurriedly changed the channel ….only to find a variation of the same.

"And now details as to the castaway story you've all heard about, Felicity Smoak, soon to become a legendary story. Jessica now has more details," the screen switched to an intelligent brunette flipping through a stack of papers.

"The Queen's Gambit was last heard of more than five years ago," Jessica started, "Ms. Smoak has reportedly confirmed that she was the only survivor of the accident that took the lives of six people."

A third news channel was focused on Felicity's short lived stint as Starling City's royalty.

"…Smoak, former fiancé of Starling City billionaire Oliver Queen. Their three year courtship culminated in what some considered the engagement of the century while others hoped Oliver's high school sweetheart Laurel Lance would fight for her place in the Queen family."

Laurel blinked once, twice, as her own picture appeared on the screen. It was pixelated but anyone could make out Oliver's lips on her cheek, just outside a club. The next one zoomed in on her hand in his at Felicity's funeral.

She turned off the TV, banged the remote against the palm of her hand so hard the batteries popped out of the back and clattered among the glass on the floor.

She felt as sick as Oliver looked.

"Ollie," she started, and trailed off when he didn't even blink, "Oliver," she tried again. She brushed her hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture and tried to find the words to say. She settled on, "I know you buried him a long time ago. But you're still allowed to hurt. Your father would be so proud of you."

He nodded but she swore she heard him mutter _Felicity _under his breath, before tears leaked down his cheeks.

"Mrs. Queen, I'm so so sorry…" Laurel wanted to say '_for your loss' _but they had already done that so long ago; the funerals and the grieving. _Just when everyone was ready to move on…_ Laurel stopped the thought in its tracks. She was…well she didn't know what she was. Happy Felicity wasn't dead, sure. But ever since the news story the previous night, she couldn't help the feeling of foreboding the crept up her spine, like the time she had with Oliver had been stolen. _If she never died would we still be together? Should we?_

The words went unspoken as she kissed Moira's cheek.

"Thank you, Laurel," the older woman smiled fondly.

Laurel smoothed down her blue A-line dress before she tucked her hand into the crook of Oliver's arm. His grey suit jacket felt soft beneath her fingers. He was a solid force beside her.

"Don't let her fool you," Thea canted from the stairs. Her appearance broke the moment. Her long brown hair swung as she pranced into the foyer. The thuds of her steps reverberated in the space. "That's not why she assembled the family."

Thea's crop top was printed with a skeleton ribcage that revealed a heart. _Ironic _Laurel thought, as the teenager had never been that open, that easily revealed. Thea was both radically different and exactly the same as what she seemed to be on the outside, it had taken Laurel awhile to get used to. If her sister Sarah was edgy, Thea was a rebel with a cause, She was wildfire forcefully contained, a tornado unsure of her destination, decisions yet to be made.

"For the foreseeable future, I have a new sister." Thea all but squealed and clapped her hands together. The movement caused the bracelets on her wrist to chime.

It hit Laurel like a ton of bricks, like a hard wave in the ocean intent on knocking her backward ripping the ground out from underneath her.

"She has no family. Her apartment was liquidated years ago. She doesn't have anywhere to go. Our phone number was the only one she remembered beside you old one," Moira nodded towards Oliver where he stood like a statue by the door. "…that was disconnected years ago." The _she _went unsaid. _Felicity._

"Should I tell Lissy it's time for dinner?" Thea queried, hands planted on her hips. Laurel thought it sounded a lot like she had issued a challenge.

The truth was Laurel had always considered Thea a younger sister, but that didn't mean the feeling went both ways. She liked to mother her but Thea had never been looking for a new one. Not even a new sister in law. Laurel knew Felicity and Thea had been practically inseparable. Pictures of the two of them shopping together filled as many tabloids as the ones of Oliver and Felicity had. Thea had even started digital design classes soon after Felicity went missing, to honor her memory, they all thought. She hadn't taken Laurel's moving in with Oliver nearly as well as she had his engagement to Felicity. And that was putting it lightly. It had been more like World War III.

Laurel watched as Moira rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. Her manicured hand waved in the way it always did when she meant 'forgive my daughter'. "Raisa already did."

Laurel heard Oliver gasp and then everything seemed to move in slow motion, blurred around the edges.

Felicity had walked down half the stair case before they had even realized she was there. Her once long, blonde hair was now a dusty brown that just passed her shoulders. It looked like someone had hacked it off with a knife and it had grown out unevenly. She held her shoulders stiffly, like she couldn't relax, and she limped when she walked. Her left leg lagged behind her right. A long scar crept up the side of her neck and onto her jaw, pink and puckered. Her build which had once been that of a slender girl who spent all day at the computer, was now outlined with just barely noticeable muscle. She wore jeans and a long sleeve fuchsia colored shirt. The color looked almost wrong on her now, bright against someone that seemed dark. Laurel couldn't help but wonder if it covered more scars. The only thing familiar was the glasses perched on her nose. Laurel wondered if they had just come out of the box or if they had survived the island.

"Felicity." It was Oliver.

His voice ghosted over Laurel's shoulder, more broken than she had ever heard him, like his soul was trying to set itself free. Laurel's skin tingled but she wasn't sure if it was from arousal or dread. The weight in the bottom of her stomach said the latter.

Laurel watched as Felicity all but tripped down the stairs and cursed lowly, grabbing the rail hard. The flustered blush that had once dotted her cheeks every time she was stopped by paparazzi, was absent. Oliver took a step forward, his hands outstretched as if he could catch her from a distance.

"Hello Oliver," she said quietly.

"Felicity."

She quirked her eyebrow and Oliver chuckled harshly. "At least that doesn't change."

Felicity smiled and it drew attention to the dent of a scar on her cheek.

"Am I late to the party?" Laurel swung around to find Tommy. He rested against the door frame, boyish smile perched on his face. "I brought the wine." He brandished the bottle near his head, swinging it lightly.

Laurel felt the tension ease a little.

Moira smiled. "This way."

Oliver's hand gripped his fork so hard Laurel thought it may snap in half. Tommy chattered, trying to make up for the awkward silence but the tension still wrapped around Laurel's throat like a noose.

Raisa was pouring them all wine and settling the bottle on the table. Moira made a comment about how well it tasted. Felicity grimaced, but tried to hide it by mashing her lips together.

"Lissy. Felicity," Oliver corrected himself with a grunt, "Prefers red…I'm sure we have a bottle…"`

"It's fine Oliver." Felicity said. Her voice sounded a little chocked.

But Oliver was already up and moving. Laurel watched as he disappeared from view and came back again with a bottle or red wine that Laurel was sure was older than America itself. He poured a glass and set it in front of Felicity. She offered him a smile. If Laurel didn't know any better, she would have said his hand shook. But commitment was the only thing, Laurel had ever known to make Oliver nervous.

"I know you haven't seen us in a while 'City…but you do you really dislike me so much that you would pretend to hate my wine," Tommy laughed. Laurel wondered if he saw how forced her smile was, how she tried to laugh.

"I loved it Tommy. Love it," Felicity stumbled. Laurel could tell she was lying.

"It really is terrific, Merlyn. Ollie and I had some last night," Laurel offered.

Tommy winked at her. "Thanks."

"Alright," Tommy continued as if he were cracking his knuckles, "Let's see," Laurel doubted the word choice was intentional but she could see everyone's mind jump the North China _Sea._

"Uhh… Lost ended," he continued, the inappropriateness of the reference lost on him. Even as an entrepreneur he was still a touch dense. Laurel could just barely remember a mention of the three of them, him, Oliver, and Felicity, watching the show together. At that time, Oliver had just begun courting 'the blonde IT girl' at his dads company. Tommy always complained that the girl understood a depth of the show he couldn't. _Philosophy _he had groaned _whatever that is, "_but I'm sure you want to catch up on that on your own. We have a black president, that's new. Steve Jobs died. And tablets are a thing. It's like half of a laptop, they have like apps…games and …"

Laurel could have sworn she saw a spark in Felicity's eyes.

"Here," Laurel startled at Oliver's movement. He was across the room in barely a minute. He held his device out to her. Laurel hadn't even seen him grab it from his briefcase. "It's a touch screen." He explained and demonstrated with his hand.

Felicity reached out with her left hand. Laurel found her eyes drawn to it past the newly clean but blank nails, in search of the ring that had once been there. Instead of the diamond a deep, deep gash was visible. It looked like someone had tried to stitch it together, but it was jagged around the edges, still a divot in the slender digit. It looked as if someone had tried to saw her finger off. Laurel wasn't the only one who had seen it. Six pairs of eyes were glued to the spot.

Felicity drew her hand back sharply at the glances, nearly dropped the tablet in her wake. It clattered against the edge of the table, the Queen Consolidated logo that covered the back of the device hitting against her stomach.

"Sorry." She said sharply, gathering it to her chest before she handed it back with her right hand. She tugged the sleeve down to the center of her palm with an embarrassed frown.

Oliver looked unsure as to whether or not to insist she take it back, he hovered awkwardly over her shoulder. Even Laurel could see the hunger in Felicity's eyes. A techno wiz that had gone years without technology was probably anxious to get back in the swing of things. The table went back to silence and Felicity poked at her potatoes with her fork.

The silence was loud. Utensils clattered against plates. Shoes tapped on the ground.

"What was it like there?" Thea asked, breaking the silence, and the utensils stopped half way to their owner's mouths. Laurel studied Thea then, noticing the way she tried to look in the soul of her friend, head tilted to the side, real concern in her eyes.

Felicity bit her lip for so long, Laurel didn't think she was going to answer and then, "I lost my glasses pretty early on, so dark." She tried to joke, even laughing a little, but the pain of the sound was beyond raw.

Oliver flinched with a low growl. Laurel had to forcefully put her hand on his knee as he fidgeted at the table. He bounced his knee, mashed his lips together, and drummed his knife against the table, before digging back into his food. It was all too much.

Felicity didn't have as much interest in her food, instead, pushing it around on the plate. She took a bite and made a funny face.

"Are they too cold Felicity? The potatoes?" Laurel asked, "Raisa could heat them up for you." She felt desperate to do something, say something, reach out and stop all the awkwardness.

Raisa skittered around the corner at her name, hands out stretched for the plate, motherly smile in place.

"Eto prekrasno. Ne volnuysya." Felicity said smoothly. Her eyes smiled at the older woman as she raised her right hair to stop her.

Laurel was tired of everyone freezing. Of each thing Felicity did stilling them in place. It had happened again.

"Russian. Robert always spoke so highly of you, I'm not surprised." Walter smiled, as he approached the head of the table. "My apologizes, I was held up at the office."

"I didn't know you took Russian in college Felicity," Laurel said. She took a full sip of wine from her glass as Walter settled.

"I didn't know you were so eager to steal my fiancé, Laurel." It was a grumble into her plate, as if Felicity just had to say it but didn't want anyone else to hear.

Laurel wished she could un-hear it. The guilt she tried not to feel smashed into her spine. _Was moving on so wrong?_

"Felicity we didn't-"

Just as Oliver said, "Felicity I thought you were gone."

The distinction wasn't lost on Laurel.

"I should…." Laurel was pushed from her thoughts as Felicity pushed herself out of the chair. She rubbed a hand against her thigh like it hurt her and nodded absently, "…be excused. Thank you all for dinner." But Laurel thought it lacked her usual sincerity.

Before Laurel even had time to blink, Felicity was gone.

"…And just what do you think you have to offer that your Mother, Step Father, Thea, and security team don't? She'll be fine, Ollie. This wasn't your fault. You don't owe her anything."

"I owe her everything," Oliver all but yelled. His feet were planted apart; his words more imposing because of how still he was. A storm, well on its way on becoming a hurricane.

Laurel jumped back. Her eyes watered at the outburst.

"I was supposed to go. I was supposed to be on the boat, Laurel. We got in a fight about _you_…and I ….I stayed. To give her space," he taunted himself. His words colder than Laurel had ever heard. "And…You saw her. She's been tortured. She lived through hell."

"She told the doctors she was alone."

"She told Tommy she liked his white wine. We all lie to protect the people we –"

"_Love._ Oliver?" Laurel asked. "It's not a bad word. It's not bad for her to love you. The question is do you love her? Do you still love her, Ollie?" She all but taunted, her finger jammed against his chest.

"Laurel please," he said in what Laurel took to be exasperation, "I'd just feel better if…You saw how she was at dinner. It's her first night here."

"Do. You. Love. Her." Laurel enunciated, deliberately.

A knock at the door stopped the argument. Laurel yanked the knob open to find Felicity on the other side. She stood with her hands wrapped her stomach. She held a silk, bright blue night gown in her hand.

"I'm sorry….I didn't mean to. Am I interrupting something? It looks like I'm interrupting something? I can just…" She made a motion with her hands to move backwards. She sounded so much like her old self, it was almost almost like she had never left. _Almost._

"It's fine, Felicity." Laurel said.

Felicity's almost ramble made just how little she had spoken the rest of the night painfully obvious.

"Ummm." She stuttered, stepping closer to Oliver like she had a secret. "Do you have a pair of pants I could borrow?" The question was timid. "Thea and I are going shopping tomorrow apparently but until then... Your mother still had this," she fingered the gown. Laurel tried not to notice the way Oliver's eyes sparked. _When exactly had Felicity worn that that brought back such good memories?_ "I um…My legs," was all she managed.

"Of course," he didn't even hesitate before moving to the dresser. He pulled the wood drawer open. It scraped against its metal track, intrusive in the silence. He riffled around for a moment and took out a pair of light blue drawstring pants. Laurel knew them to be his favorites. "Here."

Felicity nodded before she stepped back out the door with a soft thanks.

Oliver flexed his fingers like he wanted to hold on.

"Laurel-"Oliver started, his back to her.

"Don't, Ollie. Just don't."

"Felicity!"

Laurel jumped awake. She snapped up in bed as the call of the other girls name drifted in from the adjacent room.

As she blinked awake and rubbed her hand against her eyes to open them, Laurel saw that Oliver had already rushed out the door in his boxers, like the love of his life was dying_. Maybe she was. Maybe she always had been. _Laurel tried to forcefully shake the thoughts from her head. She climbed out of bed, grabbed her abandoned pajama pants and jogged out the bedroom door to find out what the emergency was.

The door to the guest bedroom Felicity had taken over was open, though a wall of bodies blocked Laurel's sight. Thea stood half asleep right inside the door and Raisa hovered by the wall. Laurel fought her way through to see the commotion. Moira sat on the floor in front of the window choked and shaking.

It looked like Felicity had climbed out of bed, and had chosen to nap on the widow seat, where she rolled into the floor. Her camisole was so soaked with water it was see-through. Large, gnarled gashes across her ribs and stomach were barely visible. The pants she had borrowed from Oliver were two-toned in water-like ink blots. She was crouched by the window, like a frightened animal in a defensive stance. There was a noticeable tremor in her hands, but what was more noticeable to Laurel was the rough, black, cable chord that hung around neck, and the scratched and chipped diamond ring that hung on it, against her breast bone.

Felicity had lost her glasses, Laurel had seen the pain splashed across her face like she would have given anything to have them back, but the ring was still there. Her finger looked as if it had nearly been cut off but she'd kept the ring. It didn't hit Laurel all at once, instead it washed over her slowly. First she noticed the ring. Then the look on Felicity's face as Oliver crouched down beside her.

Oliver may have tried to move on from Felicity, may have found Laurel again, but Felicity had never given up on him.

"I think it was a nightmare," Thea whispered.

As Felicity said, "I'm so, so, so sorry. I'm so sorry." But for what Laurel didn't know.

And Ollie said, "You're okay, Lissy. You're home. You. Are. Home."

And as he said it, Laurel felt like she had lost hers.

It was painfully obvious that Felicity only had eyes for Oliver. When she couldn't manage to stand on her own, too much adrenaline and the cold and whatever had happened to her leg, Laurel reasoned, Felicity allowed him to carry her to the bed.

One by one they filed out of the room. Moira first, then Thea as Oliver straightened the covers, Walter who had peaked in during all the commotion left when Oliver turned off the light. Raisa was the last one to give up her vigil.

Oliver muttered something to Felicity quietly, his hand moved back over her head as he encouraged her to sleep. Laurel couldn't quite make out what was said. Felicity's grip on the ring around her neck never loosened like she was afraid that he or someone would take it back. Laurel had never seen anyone so scared, so inconsolably frightened…but it went beyond that Laurel thought. Perhaps broken was a bad term. But Felicity certainly looked broken and remade.

Oliver's eyes caught Laurel's, beseeched her from across the room. _Let me stay. _They seemed to stay, _let me take care of this woman whom I loved…love. What is happening to us?_ Laurel cursed at herself.

She turned and walked out the door, hating herself for it. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him yes and she couldn't bring herself to watch his heart plummet when she said no. She couldn't handle him choosing…or making the wrong choice.

When Laurel woke up in the morning the other side of the bed was still made. The pillow and blanket she had left for Oliver on the couch untouched. She was alone.

Queen Manor was usually quiet in the early morning hours, but this morning, Laurel couldn't help but notice how busy it seemed, even from her place tucked in bed. She could hear footsteps in the hall, an argument between Raisa and one of the other maids in Russian, Moira attempting to talk to Thea, Felicity's rough voice assuring Thea that 'yes, she was still going to go shopping with her' and 'yes they could meet Tommy later.' But she didn't hear Oliver.

She pulled herself out of bed, did her make-up, curled her hair and pulled on jeans and a soft, pale pink long-sleeved shirt before heading out to the hallway. Felicity and Thea were just walking out the door. Felicity had her hair piled on top of her head haphazardly and a splash of make-up on her face that Laurel was sure had been done at Thea's hand. She wore a polka dot sweater which Laurel also contributed to Thea, a pair of dark jeans that didn't fit quite right, high boots, and a bag bigger than Laurel's car. She had sun glasses perched precariously on her nose. If Laurel searched for it, she could see the line of the ring and the cable on which it hung, under Felicity's sweater.

Felicity's eyes met hers and Laurel knew she had noticed.

"He's happy with you," Felicity said, but it sounded a little rehearsed, "and I'm glad he's happy. Thanks for…for letting him help me last night."

And then they left. Laurel stayed planted in the hallway, blinking.

"You were _kidnapped?"_ The words screamed from Oliver's throat so harshly that ever Laurel herself cowered.

Felicity and Thea sat shoulder to shoulder on the antique couch in the Queen's sitting room, a sea of shopping bags at their feet. From what Laurel understood via the previous chatter that had filled the mansion, shopping had been an all day excursion which started with make-overs. Felicity's hair had been cut into a fashionable, long, mid-shoulder bob and dyed back to its former blonde. Thea sported a blowout worthy of Hollywood and too-long lashes. They had ventured out to the high fashion stores that hid on Starling's east end without event, but when they drove into the Glades to meet Tommy for lunch ,at a Chinese restaurant, they had been attacked and found hours later in a long abandoned warehouse. Neither seemed to be able to remember what happened.

"Dad," Laurel acknowledged when Quentin Lance walked in the Queen's front door beside his partner.

He gave her a half smile and a nod. Laurel had no illusions as to how her father felt about her relationship with Oliver. Their relationship had been tumultuous ever since they moved in together. They were close, sure, but they had been closer. He however, had always been rather fond of Felicity. The way Detective Lance told it, Felicity had come to do an internship in their IT department, while she was in high school and by the end of it had so surpassed everyone else on their staff that the officers were bringing her coffee. He had offered Felicity a job when she graduated IT but she had accepted the position at Queen Consolidated instead. He had liked to pick at her about it before she had died...left...Laurel didn't quite know how to put it, even in her mind...become a castaway?

Laurel watched as he approached her now carefully and knelt in front of her.

"I wish I could say 'welcome back' under better circumstances," he said, his voice a rasp.

Felicity half-smiled gently, "Good to see you too, detective."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Thea shook her head 'no' and added, "Everything was blurry."

Felicity spoke up, "Someone in green. With a hood. Leather pants. 5''5, 5'6'' tops. Thin. Knew how to fight."

Laurel watched her dad smile, those seemed few and far between lately. _Why's Felicity getting everything I want? _Laurel thought.

Quentin said, "You were always good with details."

Felicity gave a wry smirk, "Good to see that...at least that hasn't changed."

Quentin may have missed it, but Laurel saw the way Felicity's eyes ghosted over she and Oliver where they stood in the corner under the entry way. Laurel wanted to think that they appeared a united couple, a picture to be jealous of, but she knew they had never been farther apart. And she didn't think she imagined the way Oliver's whole posture tightened at Felicity's gaze. He shook, the tremble even in his hands. Laurel thought he may be resisting the urge to pace. The last time she had seen him this distressed had been when the Gambit missed its port check in.

"And you've spoken to a sketch artist?"

Felicity's nod was rough, sharp. Laurel was still adjusting to how different Felicity was. She had a feeling she would be adjusting to it for a while. That they all would be.

Quentin stood with a nod at Felicity, while he avoided the rest of the gathered Queen family. "If you need anything..." he offered to Felicity over his shoulder.

"Bye, sweetheart," said to Laurel, but it lacked a little something.

The door shut with a click and Oliver burst forward. "Are you okay?" His voice was so soft it was heavy.

Laurel felt trapped, helpless as her boyfriend moved towards Felicity. He placed his hands on either side of her hips, encouraged her eyes to meet his, "Are you okay?" He repeated.

She shook her head, like she had forced away a thought. "I'm fine. I'm fine. Really." Her hand rose hesitantly but eventually reached his cheek. Laurel wished that Oliver hadn't leant into it, like it meant something.

"Yeah, big brother," Thea drawled sassily, "I'm fine too."

Laurel caught the wink Thea sent towards Felicity.

"Alright then," Oliver nodded. "Okay."

Felicity didn't budge as he left but Laurel caught the look on his face, the darkening in his eyes, the crease between his eyes. Determination.

It wasn't until later that night after another painfully awkward dinner that she heard the call he made. He had locked himself in the bathroom turned on the shower and the sink, but even over the running water Laurel could hear the request to the manager of his family estate for a new security employee.

"You are coming to the 'welcome home bash' aren't you?"

Laurel thought the uncertainty in Oliver's voice was a testament to how rocky their relationship had become over the last few days. She could barely remember when she had any certainty in it at all, it felt like standing on top of an avalanche that was waiting to break loose. Like she was on the cusp of a change she wasn't ready for.

"You're still invited?" Laurel quipped. "After your argument with Felicity this morning..."

It had been a big one, made more serious by how intimate it was. Laurel had watched with Thea on the stairs as Felicity and Oliver fought it out in whispers over the new security guard he had ordered to be assigned to Felicity. Their noses had been within a breath of each other. Near the end of it after something about his family already returning the money she had left them in her will, she had bunched her hand in his dress shirt. His hand had clasped over hers, his finger running over a ring that wasn't there. When Laurel cleared her throat they had both stepped back and blinked like they weren't aware it had happened. Thea had snorted. "We all know how those used to end."

Laurel had felt sick.

"It's for her own good." Oliver pulled her from her thoughts.

"And who gave you the right to decide that?" Laurel fired back.

His face shut her out in an instant and she internally cursed at herself. If there was anything that was going to solve this problem, attempt to put their relationship back on equal footing, it was going to be open and honest communication. Oliver had always needed incentive to open up. Laurel was sure it had something to do with being bounced around between nannies and temporary caretakers so much as a kid...and if she was honest...with opening up to Felicity and losing her.

"Yes," she aquised. "Tommy would kill me if I missed it." He had planned the whole thing. Most of the details were lost on Laurel, but he had babbled about it in her office for what felt like two hours. "I have to finish up some back ground on this case against Adam Hunt and then I'll be there. You want to pick my dress?"

It was their thing in a way. When he had asked to pick out her dress for a charity event early on in their relationship Laurel had asked Tommy what it meant. He had thrown his head back in laughter and coughed out 'Nice one Ollie' under his breath before he had offered, "It's a guy thing." All Laurel needed to know was that it put a glint in Ollie's eye, made him happy, and that was something she desperately wanted right now.

"Yes," he said emphatically.

Laurel gave him a quick peck on the lips. She left a light pink mark behind. It felt good, marking him. "I'm way late for work. I'll meet you at the apartment around 7ish...8. We can get ready and go from there?"

Oliver was very smart, but also obtuse. Laurel had confidence that he hadn't noticed the way she forced his hand at staying back at their loft and not down the hall from his late‒_former, _Laurel corrected herself‒ fiancé. She headed out the bed room door, with an intentional sway in her step and tossed him a wink over her shoulder.

_This'll work._

_It didn't work, Laurel_ thought glumly, as she fell down on the bed. Not only had her work run late, but she had arrived at their loft to find their suitcases packed, prepared for several more days at the Queen mansion, with a note that the driver would pick them up when she was ready and that Oliver would meet her at the party.

Laurel heaved a sigh and stormed into the bedroom. Her heel nearly broke in the process. She felt like a tiger caged in her own life. _When did things get so out of hand? _The dress Oliver had picked was laid out on the bed. Laurel barely remembered buying it. She had convinced herself that a Zac Posen_ that_ cheap was a necessity for her wardrobe but the vibrant print of multi-colored dots hadn't really been her style nor had its high neckline and tight lines. As she glared at it on the comforter, Laurel couldn't help but think that it would look better on Felicity...it would suit her more anyhow. _Maybe that's why he picked it. _With a deep breath Laurel picked it up, hung it up and slid it in a spare garment bag she had hanging in he back of her closet. She felt eerily calm, wondering if women felt like this right before they burned the bed. She was so angry...so hurt, but it didn't feel justified...didn't feel like it had anywhere to go.

She crossed to her home office in their transformed guest bedroom and grabbed a sheet of stationary from the desk. With a curving hand she wrote 'Had this in the back of my closet. I was going to give it away...and then I thought of you. It looks just like you. Hope you enjoy." She folded it, scribbled 'Felicity Smoak' on the top, pinned it to the garment bag and left it laying across the suit cases.

The party was in full swing by the time she got there. Oliver's confusion at her little black dress was more than showing in his eyes. His face turned grave when she caught Felicity's arm and lead her out of the crowd with a "Can we talk? Somewhere a little more privately." In her ear.

Thea had followed them a few steps, until Felicity assured her that she'd be okay.

"Everything alright?" Felicity asked, when they had moved away from the party. Her face was stoic, not giving a thing away. Even in the harsh fluorescent light of the upper-level space, she looked pretty. The dress she wore was so long, it trailed the floor but the high slit and lace cut-outs made it casual enough for the party. Laurel couldn't help but wonder if the long length and lace-covered cut outs had been picked in order to cover harsh scars.

"Yeah," Laurel started and shook her head. "No. I know it has to be hard coming back to a whole different world."

Felicity didn't even blink, Laurel fought the urge to wring her hands.

"I want you to know that Oliver and I...didn't do anything to...to..."

"Disrespect me?" Felicity offered, Laurel couldn't describe her tone of voice.

"Right. And..."

''And now you feel your relationship shifting and you want me to stay away but you don't know how to ask," Felicity said with an arched brow.

This part of Felicity; this fire, her spine, this she remembered.

"Laurel," Felicity said it like Laurel was a child, "I spent five years hanging onto...refusing to die... so that I could come back to him. Come back to my life here..." She visibly struggled with her words for a bit, and right when Laurel was ready to beg off Felicity added, "It's been hard to adjust to, but it will be even more difficult to give up." It felt like a verdict. With a look at her phone, she nodded her good bye and slipped away with a "Sorry, I needed someone to do something and they didn't. I need to go deal with it."

Not for the first time in many days, Laurel felt frozen in place. She blinked.

"You didn't stay long at the party last night." Tommy lectured as he walked Laurel to her car. He had stopped by for an opinion on what Laurel assumed was a bogus legal matter, but with Adam Hunt taken care of it was a welcome distraction. In what Laurel considered to be almost shyly he added, "I made sure the bar was stocked with pinior."

"Wasn't really my scene." When Tommy cocked his head to the side in what seemed to say _liar, liar, _she added, "Felicity and I had a...I'm not even sure it was a disagreement. It was awkward."

Tommy nodded stoically. "She and Oliver gone mano y mano again?"

Laurel hated that she winced. "No...but there's something there," She couldn't help but whine.

"They dated for years. They were engaged," he offered. His voice, softened trying to take some of the brunt off the blow.

He opened her car door and gave her hand to help her inside. He leaned against the door frame, coming into her space. Laurel would deny that she licked her lips. Tommy had always been cute in a boyish way, but now...well, maturity agreed with him, with her perception of him.

"I know you, Laurel Lance," he teased, "I know that the two of you have already started a baby war."

Laurel cocked her head to the side, "Baby war?"

He laughed, tossing his head back. She couldn't help but wish that Oliver would laugh like that, wild and unreserved.

"Shut it." She pretended to zip her lips shut with a finger. "You need to sit down and talk about it. Openly." He continued. "You and Oliver let your feelings lead you...and that's great...but..." He sighed, "Laurel she meant a lot to him, she changed him. Losing her was his crucible. He's probably just as confused as you are." When she retreated further back into her seat, he added, "Just talk about it."

She looked up at him, some micro expression on her face must have given her away cause his eyes were flooded with concern, "What?"

"It's just." She tore her hands through her hair. "I'm angry that I'm not angrier."

"What?!" Tommy queried, there was both humor and worry in it.

"I should be angrier. I should have gone home, forced him to sit on the couch, given him an ultimatum...The truth is, I've felt like it...we've been tampering off lately. Felicity's reappearance has just...exuberated things."

"Exuberated? What is that lawyer-speak?"

She sighed. "Merlyn."

"Alright, alright." He rubbed his hands together. "There isn't anything wrong with-Laurel just talk to him about it. If the relationship isn't what it used to be...maybe this is just fate."

Laurel nodded and pressed her hands to the steering wheel. "Thank you, Tommy."

"Anytime. Call me...if you need to ...talk."

He shut her door with a smile and waved as she pulled out of the parking lot. Laurel already wanted to see him again, felt the excitement wrap around her. She wasn't sure if that was wrong.

Laurel arrived … _was home even the right word now? … _to a too-quiet mansion. The guards let her in without question as they had over the years, but she felt like she was sneaking into a home that she no longer belonged to. She slipped off her heels in the foyer and crept up the stairs. The door to their bedroom was closed. She opened it to find the garment bag stretched across the bed with a note pressed to the front. "Thank you, but I won't be part of the war." Laurel almost laughed of_ course she has class to boot. _Laurel threw it to the floor haphazardly.

She scrubbed off her makeup, tossed her hair into a ponytail, and changed into her pajamas before heading down to the kitchen for a glass of wine. The voices in the family room stopped her. She clung to the edge of the door frame. She was hidden by the shadows.

Felicity and Oliver sat in the middle of the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and they were almost touching. Laurel was hit with the feeling that they had done this many, many times before. Laurel had seen the shopping bags but she wasn't surprised to see that Felicity was still in Oliver's pajama pants. She had paired them with a white tank top that showed off the new muscle in her arms. Oliver wore a pair of sweat pants and a worn T-shirt she had seen too many times.

The TV was on, the volume turned down. The lead character seemed to be a sad blonde woman, a brunette man stood beside her and an older man, perhaps his father. They looked to be investigating a supernatural crime scene.

"I really like this but I am surprised you knew about it. _Fringe._ I must have rubbed off on you after all," Felicity said quietly, there was forced humor in her voice. Underneath it all, her tone was raw.

Oliver's head rolled back against the top of the couch. "Yeah," he said to the celling. "Of course you did, Lissy." Then finally, after a heavy silence, "Sci Fi Saturday." it must have been a memory because she laughed. "Watching shows like this...it made me feel close to you when you were gone. Thea would watch them with me and cry. There wasn't a day...I didn't think of you. And on the days I dreamed you were alive, I worried that you were too cold, too hungry or hurt. I always think of you." His focus didn't leave the celling but the words still made him vulnerable.

"And Laurel?"

Laurel wondered if Oliver blanched but he seemed to answer bravely, truthfully. "Everyone wanted me to talk about it. To go off the deep end. She didn't. It was nice...but I...we didn't mean...I thought..." he rambled, she imagined him scrubbing a hand over his face, but she couldn't see quite that far.

Laurel watched as Felicity reached out and touched his hand, "There wasn't a day I didn't think of you." Then after a moment that felt much longer, "I'm...I'm glad you found someone to make you happy."

"It's complicated," Oliver said lowly. "Truth is, it has been for a while now, but I don't think either of us wanted...want to face it. If you ever need to talk about what happened there," he offered. Even from her hiding place Laurel caught the way Felicity's shoulder's tensed.

"Thank you."

The silence that passed was tinted with the awkwardness of two people in love that didn't know what to say. Laurel felt like an intruder.

"Do you mind if I..." Felicity motioned to the length of the couch. "I haven't been sleeping well ...but with you..."

Laurel heard the brush the leather couch made, as he moved down to the other end. "Of course."

"Just wake me up when you need to go."

Laurel figured Oliver must have nodded. She watched as Felicity fell out of view. Her head stayed on the same side of the couch, but she was willing to bet that her feet were on Oliver's lap, that his hand was splayed over them protectively.

The pain they had both been in had tears smarting in Laurel's eyes. If her talk with Tommy hadn't, this proved that she and Oliver needed to talk.


	2. Discussionary

Chapter Two

Disscusionary

_(Felicity)_

"Where'd you take your digital design slash codding classes?" Felicity asked.

She was still in her pajamas…well, Oliver's pants ‒_Head out of the gutter _she scolded herself‒ and her white tank top. Her new glasses were perched on her nose, her hair twisted into the topsy-turvy bun that had become her new go-to.

She'd spent the early morning hours in bed, hacking Marcus Redman's accounts and returning the money he had embezzled to the disenfranchised he had taken it from. It had taken her longer than it would've five years ago, she was still getting used to the technological advances and changes in code that had occurred while she was away. Redman was one of the first names on the List she had found on Robert soon after he took his own life.

There was a feeling attached, a gratefulness she felt towards being able to be the justice others needed, to stand up for those that couldn't. It was more than just checking names off a to-do list, it was righting wrongs, making the Glades safer, making Starling more honest.

She had joined Thea in the kitchen for breakfast. They sat at the metal working island, while the staff moved around them under Raisa's instructions. Felicity was sure they were in the way, the informal breakfast nook had been built for a reason, but Thea was more comfortable here and Raisa didn't seem to mind. The business of it all was a little distracting, but it was clear that everyone that bustled around had a purpose, a job to do, and Felicity found that that relaxed the situation.

Felicity saw the minute the question registered with Thea. She winced when Thea spit her cereal half-way across the table. The younger girl looked up at her with wide gray eyes, wiping at the milk that dripped down her chin with the back of her hand and taking an audibly deep breath.

"I enrolled the day you…and Dad…left on the yacht," she said soberly. "My OIT teacher recommended that I take a college class in it, so I dual enrolled at Starling State. I got my placement like two hours after you had left…I was so excited to tell you. And then…well I thought I'd go ahead with it. Honor your memory or whatever," she said timidly. Felicity could tell that she tried to put on a show of sarcasm and nonchalance but she wasn't fooled.

She wrapped her hand over the top of Thea's, "Thank you." Felicity said simply and tried through her eyes to impart to Thea just how much it meant to her. "Oliver said that QC bought up the rights to my software and then didn't do anything with it. It's in desperate need of some updates and from what I understand meets a real need, especially with the Glades the way they are now. Disenfranchised and the crime curve and all that. It'll take some time getting used to the new technology updates…and it'll need a design reboot. I thought maybe you could help with that. Phew! I tried to get all that out before you took another bite of whatever those are." Felicity winked.

Thea laughed loud and uninhibited. "Cinnamon Cheerios. Is this some ploy to become a billionaire as soon as possible and leave us? Because if it's about the money…you're family. We don't care about…" Thea looked apprehensive.

"_Was almost_ family. In the technical sense," she added when Thea frowned, "You shouldn't have to take care of me," Felicity said softly. "I don't want to make this more difficult on all of you. But it's not about that. I need some help and you're one of the only people I trust."

Thea took a slurp from her milky spoon. "Then I'd love that."

Felicity stretched out her hand. "It's a deal then."

Thea smiled, a quirk of her lips, and it almost reached her eyes. "Deal."

"Perfect," Felicity quipped. "Before I forget, do you have any idea of what happened to my old laptops? I had a slew of partial software schematics…"

Thea nodded, chewed and swallowed another bite of her cereal before answering, "They're obsolete," Thea said and it sounded like a sassy 'those old things really'. "But I wiped the hard drives…after. I have everything on an external upstairs."

Felicity nodded. "Thank you." She rose to go upstairs and get ready for the court proceeding that would legally bring her back from the dead, when she noticed Thea's pointed nod towards Felicity's un-touched bowl of cereal.

"I'm still getting used to everything," Felicity explained lamely. "Cheerios are a lot different than the grape fruits and pineapples I scrounged up on the island." She forced a chuckle. It sounded fake, even to her.

Thea's eyes narrowed further. "I know you don't want to talk about it. But don't feel like you have to lie about it either. Not to me."

Thea had always more intelligent and more observant than she acted like. It was one of the things they had bonded over early on; the fight to be seen for what they really were. Thea was nothing if not perceptive but in a world where everyone seemed to be dodging around the island-shaped-elephant in the room, Felicity was relieved that Thea wasn't one of them.

"I'm working on it," she promised Thea before she grabbed a pear from a wooden bowl near the sink. She tossed Thea a smile over her shoulder and headed up the stairs.

….Where she ran directly into Oliver. Her face bounced hard off his shoulder, her chest pressed flat against his. She couldn't help but close her eyes and breathe him in for a minute. His cologne was different, muskier than what he had used before. The planes of his chest made it obvious that he'd worked out some over the years she was gone. There was definition that wasn't there before. His hand came down on the small of her back and slipped under her tank top, as he steadied her. She forced herself to blink and drag in a deep breath in order to gather herself.

"…okay?" She only caught the last half of his question. She jerked away from him and almost fell back down the stairs. His hand caught her elbow, steadying her.

"Fine. I'm fine," she gritted out through her embarrassment.

She never imagined that she'd be in this situation, once again fumbling and embarrassed in front of the man she had once been engaged to. The man that had wiped sauce off her mouth with his finger more times than she could count. That had smiled in paparazzi shots with her when her hair turned green from the chlorine in his family pool, who had held her when she cried, sat through her long babbles about nothing, carried her to bed when she fell asleep at her computer.

When she had thought about what would be different when she got back from Lian Yu she had refused to let herself believe that he would have moved on. That he would not be there to help with her struggle to adjust. He was trying, yes. But what she missed most was the intimacy they had once shared and it was devastating really.

Felicity knew that she should be happy he had moved on, and that he was happy or had been, before she washed back up on shore. At the same time she couldn't help how betrayed she felt. She'd had the same sort of opportunities, even when she was gone. Give in, move on, be with somebody else. She hadn't. She had stayed strong.

She felt more lost now, at home, than she had on when she was away. It was an impossible feeling to deal with.

Oliver quirked his eyebrow at her. He rubbed his hands down the front of his dark suit pants in what Felicity recognized as one of his token nervous gestures. _That's the same._ There was a blurred pattern in them, they were very different than what he had worn before, in a way Felicity couldn't attribute to the current fashion trends. She couldn't help but wonder if it was Laurel's doing. _Did she pick out his clothes in the morning? Pair them together in new, modern combinations? _It was one thing that Felicity had never done. She always loved the way Oliver dressed, neat, simple, comfortable, and monochromatic.

"I wasn't paying attention," she apologized, yanking herself back to the situation at hand. "You're headed off to work?" she attempted an obvious change in conversation.

Oliver looked at her oddly, head tilted to the side, eyebrow raised. She remembered that same look on his face from when she had picked out square, teal, polka dot plates for the rehearsal dinner. Or that time she had burst into tears right before she met his family. And when she had suggested they double date with Tommy and his flavor of the week. It meant 'I'm too nice to say 'what the hell but what the _hell, _Lissy?' It meant 'I don't understand'.

"No," he said lowly, carefully, his brow still furrowed. "They're nulling your death in absentia." Felicity hated the way it sounded a little like Laurel was speaking through him.

"You're coming along," Felicity half stated-half asked.

"Of course I'm coming along." He looked hurt. It was in the way his mouth turned down and his eyes looked too tight.

Felicity stepped past him, not for the first time cursing her leg as she took a few slow steps towards her temporary bedroom. "I just don't want you to mess anything up because of it. Your day. You know I'm alive."

She watched as he nodded a little absently. "I want to be there for you." She wasn't sure if he meant now, indefinitely or for the legal proceedings.

"Okay," Felicity said over her shoulder, "I should…" She motioned towards the door. "Get ready if I'm going to face the paparazzi. Thea got me all this new stuff. I don't know where to start." She _was_ babbling but she couldn't stop. "I mean still getting used to, re-used to? Is that a word? This make up thing.-"

"You always look great without it. Now. Before."

She managed to say "Thanks."

She intended to get ready alone but he was right behind her, walking into the bedroom and carefully shutting the door. He took a seat in the sky blue arm chair that faced the bathroom and newly-filled walk-in closet. He fiddled with the beige pillow for a moment, finally laying it on the overstuffed chair next to him. Thea had offered to help Felicity 'add color to the place' but the little color that existed was almost a little overwhelming. She had dreamed of color on the island, but the ones she saw on the day to day had been limited and simple.

Felicity glanced apprehensively at him over her shoulder. When Oliver gave her a shrug that said 'I'm here, I'll wait," she moved into the bathroom and kept the door wide open. This was something she remembered. Him chatting with her while she did her make-up, trying to take her back to bed, or to the shower…_Felicity, get a grip on it. _She scolded herself. She wasn't sure she was ready for the intimacy today.

She turned on the warm water and hunted for a washcloth, she was still getting used to the layout of the bathroom closet it had been well organized for guests, everything was stacked in neat boxes. More a hotel room than a home. When she had stayed in Oliver's room before had the bathroom closet been _organized? _More or less but in a way that was functional. Oliver's towels stayed in a fluffy stack on one of the higher shelves. She could remember him on multiple occasions when he trodden across the tile floor to grab one and dripped water on her towels. She missed those little inconveniences. She shook the memories away.

The steam from the sink clouded the mirror. She was still getting used to seeing her face so when the mirror misted up it almost made her almost sigh with relief.

"You left before I woke up last night," he stated.

Felicity's body flooded with heat. She shook her head forcefully, choosing to focus instead on what he really meant: '_You got off the couch before Laurel came downstairs and woke me up with a lap dance.'_

"Yeah." Felicity didn't know whether or not to say 'thanks' she had never had to thank him for sleeping with her before. _God, Felicity, stop it. _"I moved to the bed."

"And didn't sleep." It wasn't a question.

Felicity shook her head with a tinge of exasperation. "Oliver. I'm fine."

She could see him choosing his battles, which one he wanted to conquer now.

He settled for one he thought he was most likely to win. "You don't like people behind you."

Felicity's head swiveled to the side and water dripped down her face, falling against her collarbone. She could tell that his posture was intentionally relaxed, what he used to do when he tried not to be intimidating.

"I…I don't," she confirmed.

When he stayed silent she turned back to the sink, keeping him in her peripheral vision, and scrubbed face wash against her face.

"Last night…you seemed tense. I realized that the back of the couch faced the room, and just a second ago-" _He was testing me._

"I don't like talking about it."

Oliver nodded, almost as if he'd predicted the outburst. Like he had planned this. That was definitely his 'evil-plan' face.

"I know. I don't like talking much about the time…you were gone. It took me years to get over that. And I learned…that in the long run it's better to open up. I'm not going to let you run away."

Felicity gritted her teeth. She took her time washing off the face wash then spreading moisturizer over her face and picking out a foundation, desperate to figure out what to say.

"Can't you…Just one thing, Lissy. You can tell me… one thing a day. I need to understand. Please." Then after a moment, almost desperately, he said, "Please Lissy."

He had always been desperate to understand change, why people were the way they were, he was more empathetic than he let people see.

_I need to understand why you left, why you turned to Laurel_. _You went as far away as I was Oliver_ she thought bitterly. But he didn't deserve that, he wasn't the reason she ended up on Lian Yu.

"You lost your glasses…" he prompted softly.

He was so genuine that it almost broke her heart, so desperate to understand, to help. She gripped the marble countertop with both hands and bowed her head.

"I was looking over some documents" _-But really staring at my phone wondering if I should call you or wait for it to blow over – _"drinking a glass of wine in the bedroom," _Fuming with anger towards you, _she didn't say. "The storm was really bad…and the boat capsized. I was thrown against the wall and we just went under th-they broke against my face." Her finger traced the scar in her cheek. "And then they washed away. Didn't even make it to Lian Yu. ?"

"The island." Oliver confirmed. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms against his knees. Felicity felt him studying her.

"The island. Yes. For the first few days, I couldn't see anything. And then my eyes adjusted…I got used to it. It still wasn't great but I could make out things. Eventually the headaches went away, too." She paused, gesturing with her hands. "The doctor said it would be a few days of adjustment going back to wearing them, but I haven't had any headaches."

Oliver nodded stoically. "This is why I didn't want to talk about it," Felicity explained, "People…I don't want you to take it upon yourself, or they feel bad or…or judge me…see me as broken." She said the last part so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"Whoa," Oliver jumped up, his hands spread like he was trying to look innocent. "I don't see you as broken." Then after a moment of silence when Felicity put on eye shadow and Oliver leaned against the door frame he added, "Thea picked out like six pairs…do you like those?" He pointed towards the glasses that were currently perched on top of her head.

Felicity attempted a smile. "I do. I love them," she said genuinely.

Oliver nodded, rocking back on his heels. She waited a few minute before she gave him an out.

"I have to change and stuff. I'll meet you downstairs?" She prompted.

He nodded, again moved forward to squeeze the top of her arm.

She thought he would leave without saying anything, but she caught a reverent 'thank you' as he walked out the door.

If Felicity thought she had remembered what the craze of paparazzi was like, she was wrong. It was a sea of people closing in on her, tripping her. Too many lights. She was vaguely aware of Oliver in front of her, Diggle at her side trying to block the madness. She nearly tripped on the way up the steps, grasping desperately for Oliver's jacket and he nearly carried her up them the rest of the way. When he paused to set her back on her feet right inside the door, she could see the panic in his eyes, but she wasn't sure if it was for her safety or for fear of having to grieve again. _I miss when we could tell each other how we felt._

It all happened in a blur. Thea sat on the front row in a maroon, graphic-print dress with a supportive smile beside Moira and Walter and Oliver.

It was almost worse, having to talk about Robert's death in front of all that support. She rushed through her statement as fast but as genuinely as she could. Every time she turned over their faces bellied their sadness.

_I'm saving you, _Felicity thought. _You'd rather know that he never made it off the boat. That he never begged me to save the city, to save you all, to change you, to make you see. You're better off not knowing that he shot himself in front of me. That I felt his blood pooling on my thighs…_

"-we move to null the death in absentia filed after Felicity Smoak's disappearance at sea aboard the Queen's Gambit five years ago. Unfortunately we are not filing for the declaration of death filed for Robert Queen be rescinded. The Queen family is only entitled to one miracle, I'm afraid." The attorney the Queens had hired for her said easily.

Felicity forced her to focus on the present. She was shaking as she walked out of the court room, the memories flooding her faster than she could handle them.

"_I've done terrible, terrible things Felicity. The company, isn't founded on the honor you believe in. I've done some terrible things for terrible people." Robert imparted as the life boat rocked. Felicity couldn't remember a time she had been more cold or one when she had been on steady ground. She was tired of all the rocking. Her hands were literally blue. She struggled to pay attention. "You have to right my wrongs. If there is anyone that can it's you. You and your honesty, your innocence. You have to live for them Felicity. For Oliver, Thea. They don't deserve to have to live in the world I've created. No one does."_

A different memory, one of getting shot through the shoulder rushed her and it was accompanied by physical pain. Felicity pressed her hand to her shoulder as the memory overwhelmed her, her fingers tracing the wide scar than rippled there, through her shirt.

_The island was a sight she was forced to welcome and yet didn't know how to. It seemed empty, mountainous and grey with trees that went on as far as she could see, which granted was barely a foot in front of her face. She curled her toes in the sand, even it was cold, and stumbled towards the tree line. Her first instinct was that it was deserted. Didn't all castaways wash up on deserted islands? But she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Suddenly she cried out and then fell over as pain crippled her, an arrow sticking out of her shoulder. The man appeared out of nowhere. He spoke in Chinese for the first ten minutes while he'd carried her back to his literal cave. She must have struck something in him, because soon he was attempting to speak in English, "You …have someone else…here?" He tugged on her engagement ring. The diamond reflected the sun. It danced in rainbows almost blinding her._

"_No," she'd struggled to say past the taste of blood and bile in her mouth. "Waiting for me, back home."_

"_Careful…" he drawled the word out. "People here…take that." He tugged on the ring again._

_She nodded as much as she could, wincing in pain every time her arm shifted "What about you? You have family here? Waiting for you at home?" she asked conversationally._

"_Daughter." He pointed to himself. He wouldn't say much else about anything, let alone his daughter._

_Yao Fei was not the last to call attention to her ring. Before she'd later been dragged away by men to another camp; Fyers' camp, she had taken it off and hidden it. Wrapped it in a scrap of fabric she'd ripped from her shirt, and tucked it in a hole in the cave wall behind a long, leafy plant. But her tan line had given her away.

She stumbled forward through the court house hall, barely aware of Thea holding on to her elbow.

"_It seems there are other things you are trying to hide from us," Fyers had said, "Do you have a lover here? Is that why you won't give up Yao Fei?"_

_Felicity bit her lip, refusing to say anything. She had never liked men like Fyers, the type that put others down to make themselves feel better. It wasn't stubbornness that kept her from answering but some overwhelming feeling that she was doing the right thing. Her body ached. She had spent the last hour fading in and out, but at least the pain forced her to be alert. _

"_At least you don't lie." Fyers smiled manically. "Our men saw you with that stone on your finger. We know you came here with it." The man in the mask beside her, the man that had begun her torture had taken her hand, set the jagged edge of his knife against her ring finger "Well," Fyers said. "At least we can prevent you from ever wearing it again. Or do you want to tell us who else is here with you?"_

The pain from the memory made her stumble. She ripped her arm from Thea's grasp, tugging at her shirt to find the ring she wore underneath it. She ran her finger over the band, feeling the familiar scratches and rough spots made from too much sand and salt water. The almost unnoticeable chip at the edge of the four carat diamond.

Felicity felt the same cold in her bones now as she had then. She felt like she was shattering, like she was flying apart. The doctor had said something about 'possible PTSD'. 

_Is that what this is?_

She nearly fell again, what she was seeing in her head and what was actually there were completely different. The plain walls of the court house morphed into the endless mountains of the island. She heard Oliver's voice as an echo that was barely there. And then his hand was on hers, his fingers tipping her chin up towards his.

She blinked. "Yeah, I'm okay." She hoped she answered the question he had asked.

The look on his face told her she hadn't, "I know you want to go to the offices, but maybe we should wait." He raised his brow like he was ready for her to argue, and then was surprised and relieved when she didn't. "Let's get you home."

Of course leaving the court house couldn't be that easy. Felicity was barely down the steps when Laurel ‒_gorgeous Laurel_‒ appeared. Her suit perfectly pressed, her hand on the back of a young girl, Emily Nocenti, the daughter caught up in the case against Martin Summers. Laurel barely glanced at Oliver. She chose instead to glare and walk past him without a word. She dragged Emily in her wake. After the way Laurel had woken him up that morning it felt a little cruel to Felicity. The jump back and forth. _Bipolar much? _Felicity intoned, but she must have mumbled it aloud because Thea snorted.

Their trip to the car was interrupted again, this time, by Martin Summers' 'impromptu' press release on the court house steps. She knew she should have taken the paparazzi's distraction to get to the car, but she was frozen in place by the show. The Glades had gone to hell because of the greedy people in Starling who were willing to do whatever they wanted to get their way, like selfish children on the playground. Felicity had always hated bullies.

If Felicity had any reservations against taking his name off the list tonight, they were gone now. Arrogant, smug, confident he would get off just because he paid for the loyalty of those around him. It infuriated her, seeing people get trod underneath his foot, seeing the devastation of Victor Nocenti's little girl.

There were a variety of ways to take Summers' name off the list. If she had learned anything on the Island ‒and beyond it‒ was to use her strengths to her advantage. She could hack his computer system, destroy his financials, steer the boats coming in off course by accessing their steering schematics remotely. But the drugs would still find a way in, he would still help the Triad, and even if she gave the money to Emily Nocenti she still wouldn't get vengeance for her father. Felicity could seduce him. If his last three wives were any indication of his preferred type, he'd take her up on the offer. But in order to convince him to confess it'd be a long term operation and that wasn't something she was willing to do. She didn't have that amount of time to dedicate to the operation. Not now, with so many other relationships in her life hanging in the balance. She could make a file on him, give it to the police, but the police force was so corrupt she doubted it would do any good. After all Lance couldn't keep the city honest by himself and Summers didn't value his family enough for any of them to be a real deterrent. It'd have to be done by force then.

Getting away from everyone so she could take his name off the list, was the bigger problem. She had barely set up an underground headquarters in the basement of an abandoned building that Queen Consolidated had once used as a home base for joint software projects with other companies. But she had no real cover for why she was sneaking off to the Glades, so she had to be careful. She hoped to turn the first floor of the building into offices for the new software she and Thea were working on, but that was a long way off. She knew Oliver was bound to get protective if Diggle revealed how often she snuck off in the evening. She'd already ditched him twice.

When Summers moved to leave ‒ramming into her and sending her spinning in the process‒ she used the swarming paparazzi as a distraction and jumped in the car, begging the driver to speed ahead. Moria and Walter had already left but she looked back as Oliver, Tommy, and Thea disappeared in the distance. Thea had an amused grin on her face, Oliver looked dumbstruck and Tommy was laughing so hard he was bent over with his hands braced against his jeans. Diggle glared at the retreating car.

She had the driver stop off at a Starbucks claiming she needed a cup of tea after her long morning. He nodded at her sadly, understanding written all over his face. He complied with the request without question. She walked straight to the bathroom in the back of the coffee shop, climb through the narrow window, walked up the back alley to get to the cross street where she hailed a cab.

The driver texted while he drove, nearly driving down the middle of the road. _Walking from now on, _Felicity promised herself. She told the cabbie she was going to see an old friend at the Glade View apartment complex in the Glades, in case anyone questioned him later about her disappearance. He parked in front of the complex and she maneuvered herself out of the back seat. She breezed into the front of the building, said hello to a woman that was carrying her laundry up the steps, walked out the back and made the one block journey to the abandoned office building where she had set up base.

The first floor had been so badly damaged by looters and vandals that the bank had given up on it. Damaged walls created rough offices, one of which hid her new entrance to the basement. She climbed over a badly damaged wooden desk, to pull open a wedged closet door. She'd blown out the floor and added a ladder so she could descend to the basement.

She climbed over debris she still needed to clear out, to reach the old metal table that showcased her collection of specially designed arrow tips. Picking the right arrow heads, notching them onto the shafts, changing, and filling her quiver took less than ten minutes. She grabbed her bow and ran her hand over the recurve. Every time she held it she thought of Shado, her only friend on the island, the grief-stricken young woman who taught her how to shoot, so that she could save both their lives.

Finding Martin Summers was easy, made easier by the tracker she'd made out of watch battery and various cell phone parts, and slipped in his coat pocked when he rammed into her at the court house Felicity crept along the side of the building, climbed up the industrial fire escape quickly and maneuvered her way to the skylight under the noses of the surrounding guards. To her mind, the less bloodshed, the better. She had never been one for violence something the island had tried to beat out of her, literally. The truth was she was doing this more for Oliver and Thea than she was for Robert. Making the city safer for her…for her friends, she stumbled over what to call them in her head. Family felt …she wasn't sure how it felt, different for sure. She wasn't certain it still applied.

She set a timed detonator that was barely the size of her palm on the side on the window, as she watched a man she could've sworn she saw at the court house leave. _The DA?_ When it blew, sending the glass into the building below, she wedged a grappling arrow to the side and dropped down to stand on Summers' desk.

His eyes were wide with fear and she knew what he saw, green leather pants, long green combat boots, a high collared, long sleeve, Kevlar bolstered shirt that hid under the top of her hood and the hood itself, a deep forest green, fashioned out of scraps that Shado's father had found on the island. It hung low over her face, shielding her eyes that were clouded with green face paint, and effectively hiding her blonde hair that was currently in a pinned up braid. She drew an arrow back, as she faced him, aiming it downwards, so it would hit him in between his eyes where he sat, scared stiff in his office chair. He may work with the Triad, he may take their money but he certainly hadn't been trained for pain.

The feeling that surged through her was hard to put into words. Not anticipation, nor power; a combination of both. A certainty in doing the right thing. In making a difference.

"Martin Summers," she said, her voice coming out in a disguised gravel. "You have failed this city." The familiar quote inspired by Robert Queen, fell out of her mouth.

When he glared at her she loosed an arrow to scrape against his cheek and another to drag across the top of his shoulder. He was a whimpering mess within minutes.

"W-what do you want me to do." He let out a low groan. "Please."

She spoke over his begging, "You're going to confess to the murder of Victor Nocenti. You won't get a second warning."

She left with the shadows.

She arrived…_home? _To a seemingly calm Oliver Queen, but she could see the furry in his eyes.

"How was your tea?" He said curtly, his voice steely in his anger.

Felicity recognized the way he leaned against the banister for the trap it was, he had been waiting to stop her as soon as she came back. She wondered how long he would've waited before he went to search for her.

"Oliver," she started resolutely, all ready with a lie to deter him from the truth of where she really went, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Let's go for a walk."

She could tell his smile was forced.

It was then that she noticed what he was wearing, dark grey sweat pants and a navy Henley ‒that made the new muscle on his chest stand out‒ and Nike shoes.

She must have looked apprehensive, because he added, "Let's catch up…please." His face softened, his eyes urging her to join him.

She nodded, which he must have understood as 'yes' because he stepped out of the way so that she could walk up the stairs to change.

She couldn't remember buying any workout clothes during her shopping excursion with Thea the day before, but there were five pairs of jazz pants neatly folded on one of the closet shelves next to folded sweat shirts, razor back work out tops, and sweat-resistant t-shirts.

Felicity picked a pair of black pants, a grey long sleeve shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes. She twisted her hair up in a bun on top of her head and looked in the mirror for a long moment. She was still getting used to what she looked like, puckered pink flesh against her jaw, deep divot in her cheek, scar across her eye brow, reconciling how she remembered herself to the scared person she was now.

Raisa had left a plate of cut fruit on the low coffee table that sat in the small in-room seating area. Felicity softened at the gesture, and grabbed a few bites of apple before heading out to find Oliver.

The route he took her on was one she barely remembered. When they first started dating, he'd taken her on long, secret midnight walks, this way. The best way to avoid the paparazzi he had promised. And it still was by the looks of it. It involved walking down his home's service access road, off the grounds, up a hill that was filled with a gated off cow pasture, and across a barely paved dirt road that ran parallel to the one that lead to his house and a long trek through the grass that eventually lead back onto the Queen's ground to the patio. It was a little ridiculous sure….but it worked and it was theirs…or it had been anyway.

He seemed to hear her thoughts, "I used to walk this route when I needed to talk to you…while you were gone. It was ridiculous really, but if I closed my eyes," he demonstrated humorously. Felicity recognized it for what it was, his attempt to come to terms with what he was saying, to avoid the emotions that rose up within him, "I could pretend I was talking to you. I could almost hear your voice. When Laurel and I…I wanted it to just belong to you and me," he imparted to Felicity. "So I stopped walking it." He took a deep breath and she could see his attempt to avoid the situation again before he said, "Hopefully I remember the way." And elbowed her ribs playfully.

The walk took longer than she remembered, was more difficult, with her limp. It was a funny wound, one she tended not to notice when she was barreling through sky lights, one she had become accustomed to in a fight. But on walks like this beside someone who was…_normal? _

_But he isn't is he? He's been through your tragedy too …_someone whocould walk normally, it was a painful reminder of everything she had been through. Her slow pace didn't seem to bother Oliver. He didn't try to assist her, which she liked. He was doing a good job at learning her again while still treating her like a person instead of 'the castaway'.

They had just made the bend up the cow pasture. Felicity trailed her hand along the wooded fence as they walked. The night air was just beginning to cool, and it whispered in her ear. The silence had been more comfortable in the past but it wasn't entirely awkward now. It was another ten minutes or so before Oliver said anything.

"I know you were alone on…for five years. I get that this is probably a little overwhelming…but I worry about you and I care…I can't lose you again. And you just go running off in the Glades, _the Glades, _Felicity for coffee. Without Diggle-"

She could hear the fear in his voice, see it in the way his eyes stormed.

"Okay," she placated, pressing her hand against his shoulder. "Okay. From now on Digg is my guy. I mean he's not my guy…we're not like 'going steady' or 'bumping uglies' or anything…"

Oliver laughed, full and easy. Felicity smiled, even if his laughter was at her expense, she enjoyed it. She had missed that laugh.

She wanted to ask him about Laurel and her attitude at the court house but instead she diverted. "What are you doing at Queen Consolidated?"

He chuckled, dryly and scratched a hand at the back of his neck like he did when he was embarrassed. _At least his mannerisms were the same._

"I'm working under Walter. Doing a lot of business meetings, stockholder briefings and schmoozing of the rich and famous."

He said it like he was bored. "What do you want to do?"

He blinked at her like he had never been asked the question, not in five years anyway, and perhaps he hadn't. "Honestly?" he asked rhetorically but she nodded anyway, "Walter's trying to diversify. He's opening an Applied Sciences division. I'd like to head that. Applying the theory and ideas our divisions come up with. I'd like to start guiding it towards real world involvement. I mean what's the point if it just keeps cycling through the rich but…" he trailed off from his rant. "Walter and Mom, they'd never go for it. Robert Queen's son," he said with a false British accent like he was imitating Walter, "is heir to the company, not the director of some pseudo-rogue division. They're dedicating it in Dad's memory. That's enough."

Felicity could tell it wasn't. "Why haven't you talked to Walter about it?"

Oliver sighed, "He won't take me seriously."

"Oliver," Felicity scolded. "You have a tendency not to take_ yourself_ seriously." He rolled his eyes at her. "Look, if you want to the job, apply for the job."

"What?"

"Apply. Make a cover letter, a resume. Market yourself. Apply like anyone else would. Show them that you're serious about it."

He smiled at her. It was tentative, "You really think I should go for it?"

"I think," she started, "that it will make you much happier than you are right now. I think _they _could use _you." _

He was quiet for a moment, and then as she made the hop onto the dirt road from the grass they had been on, "Thanks, Lissy."

She nodded. "Always."

By the time they got back to the house, they were laughing again. Felicity wasn't sure she had ever laughed that hard. Oliver was telling some story about Thea's devilish plan to fill the gossip rags websites with gossip about their own people.

"I swear. She outed the woman's affair. And destroyed the credibility of three other publications before anyone caught on." He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. He looked like he was trying to act innocent. Boyish. "She wasn't going to let anyone say anything about you when you weren't here to defend yourself." The mood became somber.

And things got worse when they turned to go into the mansion's front door and saw Laurel. She wore a low-cut blouse and shorts and had three suitcases behind her. Felicity was certain she had only come with one. Her intent was clear.

_Is this before or after their 'talk'? _

This time Felicity took Diggle with her, even if she hadn't told Oliver. She may have never stopped loving him but she saw the pain in his face when Laurel dragged her suitcases out the door. Gave him an ultimatum. He said they had set aside time to talk about it at lunch and she had never showed. Apparently they weren't talking, Laurel was just leaving. Felicity knew how little Oliver liked things that were unresolved.

So, to Laurel's it was.

Felicity ran her hands against her blue jeans. She wasn't nervous, but that was what made her tense. This was _gorgeous_ Laurel, she was getting ready to deal with. Oliver's high school sweetheart, a woman even the judgmental paparazzi believed was made for Oliver. The one that hadn't taken their engagement well and then had gotten her happily ever after when Felicity disappeared. And now she was back. Felicity couldn't quite feel sorry for Laurel, but she couldn't not feel sorry for her either, which is what lead her here, climbing the steps to the loft Laurel shared ‒_had once shared?‒ _with Oliver.

The police car parked beside the curb was both obvious and foreboding.

The door was easy to pick out, painted a dark blue and personalized with curvy, vintage-styled silver numbers that seemed exactly Laurel's style. There was a wreath that looked like a Pinterest craft ‒Thea had just introduced Felicity to the new website‒. It was all light and dark blue craft berries intertwined into a big circle, with a faux yellow canary resting inside the rim.

Felicity knocked three times quickly and waited a minute before Laurel opened the door. She was surprised to say the least. And it was obvious that Felicity had caught her at a bad time. Her eyes were puffy like she had been crying. Her hair fell around her shoulders which were revealed by a burgundy off-the-shoulder top which she had paired with blue jean shorts. She held a box of Chinese take-out in one hand.

"Felicity?" She asked, her eyebrows rose to her hairline, giving away her surprise.

It was the "'City?" That came from behind Laurel that had Felicity's brows rising in surprise.

"Oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll leave you to your-" obvious _date._ Felicity added mentally.

But Laurel shook her head, instead encouraging her inside.

Felicity could feel her eyes widening. This was not the space she had expected. The layout of the place was all Oliver. Open, high glass windows, all wood floor, stainless-steel metals. It looked straight out of a postmodern catalogue, exactly like Oliver had always described their future home, the few times he had. The colors and patterns and accessories, however, was all Laurel. All navy and maroon and yellow. Throw blankets and pillows that hid the dark leather of the couch, fat arm chairs that looked vintage, candles were everywhere, and Felicity didn't think it was just because Tommy was here.

"Is everything okay? Oliver?" Laurel asked. She moved to the couch where Felicity presumed she had been previously sitting,

"I was going to ask you the same thing…There's a police car outside."

Laure forced a smile. "Yeah. My Dad's overprotective."

"Ah," Felicity could see Tommy's eyes dance between the two of them, like he was trying to come up with a good excuse to leave. "Did you need…something?"

"Yeah…I…God, this is awkward," Felicity admitted. She rocked up on her toes, "I …you didn't have to leave and I just wanted…to...I mean if I made you uncomfortable…"

All the energetic façade of a moment before drained away, leaving Laurel looking tired.

"Did Oliver send you?"

Felicity didn't think there was a correct answer, "No. He doesn't know I'm here."

Laurel frustrated, ran a hand through her hair. "This is a tricky situation for everyone involved. I think we just all need a little time away from one another. It's no one's fault. No one could've planned any of this." It sounded over rehearsed.

Felicity tried, she really tried to let it go, but she just couldn't. The insult was obvious. Who was Laurel to make her feel like the outsider in a life that had once been hers?

"Planned what exactly?" She asked instead of the more diplomatic response she had arrived at the loft with. "My getting stranded on an island or my getting rescued?"

Laurel looked affronted, a million expressions that were too quick for Felicity to understand flashed on her face. Tommy let out an awkward sigh, Felicity turned to glare at him and instead caught sight of a woman as she swung forward through the window.

"Get down!" Felicity screamed at Tommy, as she grabbed Laurel's hand and ran, pulling the woman behind her.

Shots were fired almost instantly, ricocheting wildly in the space. They seemed to gravitate toward items that would make the most mess. A metal chandelier tumbled from the ceiling, a decorative mirror shattered, another window was shot out, and a vase crashed as it fell to the floor.

Felicity pushed Laurel into the first room she could find and turned back to see Diggle racing inside the door. He'd taken care of the first mercenary and just landed a shot on the second. A white haired woman that wasn't entirely unfamiliar, launched herself in front of him.

Felicity watched as they exchanged blows, Diggle was a far better fighter than she would've given him credit for. The scuffle went on for nearly two minutes, before the woman got the upper hand, grabbing a discarded gun and training it at his temple.

Tommy laid in the floor, unconscious but alive. He wouldn't be able to help and she couldn't just showcase how easy it would be for her to take the woman down.

She caught a glint of a knife near the orange chicken and a pair of chopsticks. Throwing knifes was one of her favorite things she had learned on the island. There was a type of mathematics to the weight, the force. And Felicity liked mathematics. She lunged for them, throwing the chopsticks through the air in quick succession. One hit the white haired woman in the eye, causing her to stumble back, the second one, her throat. Felicity threw the knife last, flipping it against her palm to get used to its balance before flinging it at the woman's wrist. The gun fell from her hand. She was out the window before Felicity could blink.

"Call 911," Felicity said to Diggle, instead of 'Are you okay?'

He seemed well enough and calling attention to it would only make him think of how difficult the throw had been in the first place. He was already taking out his cell phone.

She double-checked Tommy's pulse, satisfied that he would be okay, and then moved to get to Laurel. She yanked open the door and entered to find that it had been an office and library, with all wood furniture and tall book shelves filled with what looked like fat legal volumes. Laurel was in hysterics. Fat tears on her cheeks as she hid behind the desk, a phone was clutched to her cheek. Felicity quickly gathered that Oliver was on the other end.

"Diggle took care of it," Felicity said slowly. She dropped down to crouch at Laurel's level, made eye contact. "They're gone now it's okay."

Laurel blinked owlishly. Felicity could hear Oliver calling out on the other end.

"It's okay. Felicity took care of it."

Felicity could barely hear Oliver query her name from the other end of the phone line, his voice garbled

The paramedics arrived almost immediately, careful not to disrupt the crime scene as they took Tommy and checked Laurel and Diggle out. Felicity politely and firmly refused.

Detective Lance arrived less than ten minutes later, rushing in and taking Laurel into his arms and tucking her head under his chin. His eyes caught Felicity's over Laurel's head, "You alright sweetheart?" He asked.

Felicity nodded firmly. She had glass in her hair that fell out when she nodded.

The door flew open then, and Oliver stormed through, despite the shouts of the policemen that were standing at the door. Felicity watched as he strode straight to Laurel, his pace long and even. She turned away from her father's arms and reached for him. He scooped her up against his chest, his hands protecting the back of her head as if he was afraid she would disappear again. And then his eyes met Felicity's.

"You Okay?" He mouthed. She could see his eyes run critically over her body like he was checking her for injuries. His worry was in the crumple between his brows.

She nodded firmly and watched as Laurel cupped his jaw in her hands, messily telling him something about her attackers.

Felicity wanted to be in his arms and she felt off balance. She was fine, capable of taking care of herself, she wasn't just some damsel that needed comforting. But she did _want _it. She was being selfish. Laurel was the one they'd here to kill. Laurel and Oliver had been together for years, they were mostly together now. She had called him in tears. It wasn't wrong for him to be worried about her. But Felicity still felt…neglected.

She could feel Lance looking at her worriedly, tentatively, like he was afraid she would break. She shook her head, walked to the kitchen and hunted around in the freezer until she found a bag of frozen peas. She walked back towards the crime scene and tossed them to Diggle who sat by the window. He nodded his thanks, taking them to press against a bruise on his cheek.

He smiled at Felicity. "She got lucky."

Felicity nodded, "Thank you. We wouldn't have all made it out." _Mostly unscathed _she added mentally. "Had you not been here. Your job isn't to take care of everyone I know." _Knew once, _her mind added. She certainly didn't feel like she still _knew _the people from her old life. Tommy and Laurel. At least like she had once _known _them, though admittedly, she and Laurel had never been bosom buddies.

A strange expression crossed Diggles' face, one Felicity couldn't quite make out. He shrugged, mostly to himself, took a deep breath and then said, "I think it's you I should be thanking. The chopsticks. The knife."

Felicity forced herself to giggle girlishly. "I just got lucky."

Diggle grinned, shaking his head. "Don't take me for a fool," he warned, "You kept your head in there. Got Tommy down, Laurel to safety, and then you saved my ass."

Felicity frowned, leaned against the window sill he sat on. "I just got lucky," she repeated.

There was silence then, though she wasn't sure Diggle believed her. She watched the scene in front of them, as the police took Laurel's statement and Oliver's for the phone call . Crime scene techs methodically walked through the scene collecting evidence and dropping it into plastic bags.

Oliver moved then, coming to stand in front of her, his arm extended, like he was going to grab her shoulder. "You're okay." He said as if he were reassuring himself. As if there wasn't an argument.

Felicity forced a smile, grabbing his hand in midair with a squeeze, I'm fine."

"I can't lose you again."

"You haven't. You won't." Felicity assured.

She had too many emotions competing against each other. She wanted to comfort him, she was jealous of Laurel, the easy affection she had shown her, she wanted to be comforted, and she wanted to be above it all. It was too much.

She watched as Oliver looked between them, she and Laurel, and that seemed to be a perfect representation of all her current troubles. He took a step towards Laurel and then turned back. He looked conflicted. His eyes seemed to say 'Stay'.

He left.

Diggle broke the silence, "I served three tours in Afghanistan. You want to know what I learned?"

Felicity shrugged. "That war is tough."

"The opposite," Diggle said. "War is easy. Home is a battlefield. Everyone wants you to be like you were before, even though they aren't. To understand their troubles while they don't understand yours. To talk about it. To be someone…" he looked directly at her. "That you aren't sure you are anymore, maybe that you aren't sure you _ever_ were. I think that the Island changed you," he said almost gently. "But I also think that you aren't as messed up after five years of being abandoned, as you should be."

When Felicity raised her brow in question he explained. "You could've demanded to be heard, wanted. Ran into his arms right when he opened that doo. You could have left that girl for dead. I'm sure weaker women have. But you didn't. And now you're sitting here, strong, instead of having an emotional breakdown that demands he leaves her and tends to you."

Felicity felt raw, exposed. She didn't like it. "You're one observant man, Mr. Diggle," she said solidly.

"Let's get you out of here," he said in response.

Felicity begged Diggle for some space, for a walk. He seemed to appreciating the honesty, letting here leave, but promising he'd come after her if she wasn't back in two hours.

She took a different route to her hideout this time. She jogged the twenty minutes into the city and then hailed a cab to take her to the Glades. She got off at a restaurant called Big Belly Burger. She didn't think it existed before. She'd have to check it out sometime. She used the alleyway behind the restaurant and a barely-there side street to get to the abandoned offices before using the back door this time.

She was quick to change, gather her arrows and head back to the docks. Evasion was something she had had to learn on the island, integral to her survival. Shado had taught her a lot, how to hide in plain sight, how to move among the shadows.

"_Shadows always move," Shado had said. "They're never still. They're never obvious. Always hiding in plain sight."_

After a while it had become a game, like a maze. A puzzle to solve. She went down alleys, climbed up fire escapes, hopped onto roof tops, jumped from one to the next. She slid between buildings, crossed through the long forgotten underground tracks and came up at the docks.

The guards were far more alert tonight Felicity noticed. There was no way she could get close enough to Summers' without them noticing. She might as well make them notice her. She took the first three out with one shot, an arrow landing in each person's shoulder. The next went down with a back hand to his nose. As his eyes smarted, she pulled him to the ground with a leg hooked behind his s knees and fired off an arrow to disable the man in front of her. She dodged a punch from the man behind her, forcefully clocked him in the jaw and then took off running. Jumping below her to land behind Summers' felt like free falling. She loved the feeling of the wind against her, the hard drop at the end of a jump that almost felt like flying.

She held on to that weightlessness as she chased after him, notching an arrow as she ran and firing it at Summers' shoulder. It impaled him to a large column behind him, his briefcase went skittering across the concrete. She loosed another, trapping his right shoulder and then another one that landed right on target between his legs.

It only took moments for his confession to come slipping out in his panic. _Easy, _Felicity thought to herself, knowing that the recorder she had created and clipped into her quiver was picking up every detail. All these villains had the same flaw: Hubris, their pride and their greed were their downfall.

She could see the Triad around the border of the building. She ran out of the warehouse, jumping from the ledge she was on to the ground below. She saw police cars in the distance. _That_ she had expected. Police never took well to someone changing their idea of what justice should be. She was just enough ahead of them in the game that it wouldn't be a problem.

She took a leap, running behind along the ocean's edge, jumping from dock to dock as she ran. When she got to the right vantage point she turned towards the police cars parked in a jagged row.

Lance's car was easy to pick out because he leaned back against its hood. If anyone was going to catch her, it'd be him because he never liked an unsolved problem. She wasn't sure he knew how he felt about 'vigilantes.' Lance was most likely to catch her, yes, but he was also the most likely to see her side of things. To help her. His view of justice had always made sense, it wasn't the strict refusal of people that only paid attention to what the books said. It wasn't the 'out for what I want and need' kind of justice. It was more of a hedonistic calculus. The greatest good for the greatest number.

In a police force full of corruption she knew he wasn't one of those and as easy as it would've been to kill Summers'‒and she wasn't sure that leaving him for the Triad wasn't the same thing‒ justice delivered t in court, was better for the Glades, for Starling, and for Emily. She wasn't able to trust the force with a file, but she had three copies of the recorded confession. One of them was for Lance. He'd make sure it'd get where it needed to go, especially after the attack on Laurel.

She clipped the device to an arrow shaft, something she had specifically built it to do, and loosed it into the car's tire. They'd find it.

She continued across the docks, then up a stray side street and over a fire escape. CNRI. Laurel seemed like the type of woman to go back to work after a trauma, to try and hunt down the people that were hunting her. Sure enough, Laurel was there. Felicity could see her through the window, eating what she assumed was the same take out from earlier, over a slew of files. Oliver sat across from her, his eyes soft as they argued about something in low voices.

Felicity shot a suction cup arrow at the window, watching it stick, the recording light flashed green.

Felicity wasn't going to wait to see which of Oliver's homes he came back to, but she found herself with her eyes locked on the front door anyway. The TV was on, the sound low, but she wasn't paying attention she didn't even know what was playing. She talked to Diggle, Oliver had called him asking after her, wondering why she left, was she safe? Diggle had said yes. She'd come down to find the furniture rearranged and from the look of the maids and cooks that scurried around the house, she figured Oliver had done it.

The TV had been moved almost under the entry way, creating a bottle neck of traffic for those that were coming in, but it allowed the couch and the rooms four, fat chairs, to have their backs to the wall. She'd also found pairs of glasses, identical to the ones she had taken to wearing, all over the house. A pair that laid in their own trey beside the couch in the living room, one on the buffet in the dining room, another pair on the table in the foyer. The note attached to the first pair she found said "So it's never dark."

'Oliver' Felicity sighed to herself, 'I don't want all of this. I just want you.'

"My son has a tendency for over compensating for what he can't give emotionally." Moira said from the door way.

Felicity sucked in a breath, her cheeks flushing.

"Mrs. Qu-Steele, I didn't see you there."

Moira laughed lightly. "Moira, Felicity. And I know. But it's a good thing I caught you."

Felicity wasn't sure if she meant literally or metaphorically. Moira made herself comfortable in a chair across from where Felicity sat on the couch. Instead of crossing her legs as Felicity was used to seeing, Moira leaned forward, her arm resting on the arm of the chair, her voice soft, gentle, like Felicity imagined her mother's would've sounded like. She seemed to weigh her words for a moment, choosing them carefully before finally saying.

"I know this has to be difficult for you. I can only imagine." She paused with a heavy look before trying again. "I'm sorry. That seem inadequate."

Felicity appreciated the sentiment.

"I know it must seem like he's forgotten you. That he can't make up his mind. It's hard on him to but – here." She pulled a thick book from inside her jacket. "He'd kill me for giving this to you. I don't even think he knows it still exists, he tried to throw it away. But I think you should read it."

Felicity took it tentatively. The blue leather cover was worn but soft. Felicity opened it, pressing her hand across the first page. It was a diary.

_The therapist told me to keep this, _it read _to write to down my feelings on Felicity's disappearance. I'm writing to her instead. I think they call it 'denial'._ Felicity almost laughed, that stubbornness was all Oliver, and his soul was bouncing off the page. _But I refuse to believe that you're gone. You said you would never leave and I'm holding you to that._

Felicity could almost hear his voice from earlier_, __"I know. I don't like talking much about the time…you were gone. It took me years to get over that. And I learned…that in the long run it's better to open up. I'm not going to let you run away."_

_Felicity,_ the next entry said, _I don't know where you are, I don't know if you're hurt or hungry or alive. I don't know if you're cold. It's killing me. Do you remember that time we went to that terrible outdoor opera and there was that hail storm? We'd just been dating what? Six days. It already felt like commitment and for the first time it didn't make me nervous. It was snowing. You were so stubborn, you made us stay there through the whole thing. You were so cold your lips were blue. You took my suit jacket and let me hold you close. You had never let me hold you that close before. I wanted to wrap you up and keep you warm and safe. And never let the world touch you. I promised you that and I failed. I knew that you were…insecure when it came to Laurel. And that was my fault, I had a tendency to go to her when I was scared. And with the wedding and the pressure from my family, from my Dad to take up the company…you've always encouraged me to do my best. Laurel expected my worst so I always achieved….I just wanted…nothing happened Felicity. Nothing. But I know that didn't matter. I'll never forgive myself for that fight. I'm so sorry, Felicity. They tell me you're gone…but I feel like you are still out there. I know why you left, that you needed space after…Laurel. But you have to know that I love you. I love you Felicity. And I miss you. Come home. Come home to me._

_Felicity, the wedding planner called today. I didn't know how to tell her to postpone it. She wasn't happy about it when I did. Apparently once you have a funeral for someone, you can't keep items reserved for their wedding. It's a sham I tell you. I convinced her to …she's holding everything for us, when you return. We can get married just like you planned. Teal plates and those gold candlesticks that you wanted. Thea has picked out six dresses for you, but I can't wait for you to pick out your own. You're going to be so beautiful. I miss you Lissy. Come back to me._

When Felicity looked up, Moira was gone.

She drifted off, clutching the book to her chest.


End file.
